


Breaking up the Printing Press

by cp035



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Gen, Multi, bad boy! Charlie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cp035/pseuds/cp035
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unapologetic *enormous jerk* Charlie White has a Gold Medal with his name on it, or so he thinks; until an unforeseen obstacle forces him to change everything. It'll take his pain-in-the-butt 17-year partner, his sort-of girlfriend, doped up on sunshine buddies, a girl who forces him to look her in the eye, the boy whose heart he's stolen, and a whole lot of hard work to come away with the win just in time...on the podium, and with the girl. (Once he figures out which one he really wants, because dude- feelings suck.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Champs Camp 2013; Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write a bad boy! Charlie story for ages and promised it on Tumblr, so I finally bit the bullet and wrote the thing. 
> 
> Warning in advance for heavy profanity and use of sexual innuendos, and sexual situations. It's rated Mature for a reason though there's not smut just yet.

The morning after Charlie White had effectively cleaned out the United Airlines in-flight liquor cabinet, he was sprawled across an uncomfortably cramped classroom desk, doodling in the margins of the program for the day. A scrawl which roughly resembled the Detroit Red Wings' crest (when turned sideways) was scribbled over _10:45 AM_ (a team-building activity). Just below _Welcome to Champs Camp 2013!_  were the five Olympic rings, two of which were forming the testicles of his crude drawing of an erect penis.

 

"-so what I'm saying about the Olympic season is, it's as much about what's _up here_ as it is how much you've all been training your bodies to-"

 

And so on. Charlie had long ago checked out. They had booked Michelle Kwan for the camp's keynote speaker; Charlie had optimistically thought there would be some eye candy while she slogged through her federation-approved speech about making and reaching your goals or some other bullshit like that.

 

No such luck. She was dressed in a loose black top and grey leggings, and had miraculously (for anyone not a member of the clergy) kept from cussing for the past half-hour.

 

 _USA's greatest skater might be a robot for real_ , he scribbled under the day's lunch menu.

 

" _Charlie._ "

 

There it was.

 

"Are you trashed? _Right now_?"

 

Her insistent, high whisper. Her nagging like a bitch, even though every skater worth their salt knew that Champs Camp was three days in gorgeous Colorado, getting to know the next year's world team ( Read: _wild debauchery included with your entrance fees_ ). Meryl Davis was a straight-up, straight-edge honor roll student and deserved Olympic medals in every event there was for being a massive pain in the ass.

 

Charlie had seen all of the Harry Potter movies with his bombshell sometimes-girlfriend Tanith, and Meryl reminded him of Hermione. Emma Watson had grown up beautiful, of course, but her character in the films was simply put, disgusting. He could never fathom why anyone would ever want their daughter to grow up like that; a smart-alecky know-it-all _bitch._ He and Tanith had briefly discussed it at the end of the sixth movie, and she had laughed at him.

 

"You know she's not real, right?", Tanith giggled, tossing back her hair.

 

"Yeah, laugh it up, babe. Meryl's absolutely real and I'm stuck with her for six _fucking_ hours tomorrow. I'll miss you.", Charlie told her, cuffing her head and pulling her towards him. Hungrily, possessively, he drew her lips to his and kissed her, in the middle of the hallway leading out of the cinemas. She tasted like Diet Coke and kettle corn, and smelled like strawberry lip gloss. Simple, sweet, like she was. Charlie's teeth caught against her bottom lip, and a river that tasted of copper exploded into their mouths.

 

"Ah- _ow._ _Fuck_ Charlie-"

 

"Yeah. Let's go, beautiful."

 

Later that night, after he had fucked his girlfriend like every red-blooded American male ought, Charlie had thumbed a ride back to school, and stumbled into Meryl's sorority house. Her room was a right turn from the back door, which the girls left unlocked in case a party went especially late. He had not thought her the type to join a sorority, until she did, and became a tenth of a percentage more tolerable because of it. Suddenly, he would see Meryl in the background at the wild keggers he and his roommates hosted, sneaking condoms into his bedroom drawers while he clumsily undressed freshmen from Illinois.

 

He had knocked three times, because it was funny just like that weird dude Jim Parsons played on _The Big Bang Theory_ , even though her door was half open. She was almost undressed  in tiny Disney princess pyjama shorts and a white sports bra; her hair up in an altogether unattractive bun.

 

Altogether unattractive was a fine was to describe Meryl, who was conventionally _pretty_ in the sense that Detroit was conventionally _crime-free_.

 

"If anyone says anything, your shorts were riding up your ass.", said Charlie.

 

" _Frick_ , it's late, you jerk. I have a cla-"

 

"Grand Prix Final. Two weeks from today. C'mon.", he coaxed, leading the two of them to her neatly made bed. He had considered bouncing pennies off her sheets in the past to piss her off, but had never gotten around to it.

 

"Besides, I like pretty girls. You can be desperate enough for me. We're in fucking college, you know? We're _supposed_ to fuck around."

 

"I thought _Tanith_ was pretty.", Meryl told him. The awareness of exactly what they were doing (cheating) had not escaped either of them.

 

"She is. But I want _beautiful_ , Meryl."

 

"Really?"

 

Charlie had shrugged then, his lips curled into a sheepish half-smirk.

 

Girls were an equation as simple as dividing by zero. Compliments were foolproof alcohol, and like every guy in existence scratched his balls; ever girl on the planet would drop her panties and say _Yes_ if she was told she was beautiful, gorgeous, and special.

 

Simple as that.

 

"Yeah."

 

" _Okay._ "

 

" _Good._ "

 

Their relationship had been an unfortunate (well, other than the sex, which was as fortunate as winning the lottery, shocking as it was) side effect of the past 17 years;  a hate-fueled push-and-pull partnership which had somehow managed to culminate in the both of them being America's greatest hope at a gold medal in ice dancing.

 

 _Everyone_ did it, after all- and their Canadian rivals had taken full advantage of a little bit more off-ice training. It was fuel for the chemistry they needed to win, and it had taken exactly three words for Meryl to rip apart the buttons of his shirt, and for his lips to leave bruises trailing up her neck.

 

" _Scott did it_."

 

What a time it was to be alive, when you were fucking a centerfold (sans boobs, but Tanith was fine without much of a rack, surprisingly) and your skating partner was jacking you off.

 

Meryl scribbled in her notebook for a moment, clearly exasperated. _Good._ Charlie loved the feeling of winding her up, tiny bits at a time, because by and large, she let him. Meryl was a fucking cooler sitting outside in the middle of a Michigan winter. Frigid, so much so he was convinced her veins probably pumped antifreeze to keep her warm.

 

 _Are you evan listening? S_ he had written, in loopy handwriting beside 12:30 AM. In an irony befitting a couple who fucked and hated each other and had to win Olympic Gold, massive nerd and noted frigid pain in the ass Meryl Davis was dyslexic. Charlie thought that was pretty hilarious. Anyone who missed its significance as the funniest thing on earth needed a new sense of humor.

 

"Evan's over there.", he whispered, cocking his head toward his friend, who was a surprisingly good bartender for being such a little bitch. Evan  was nice, but not the kind of nice that came with a fast car and a trust fund and a face that would make pretty children with anyone. Evan was so doped up on sunshine he offered hugs to the homeless when he was drunk.

 

Hell, he did even when he was stone-cold sober.

 

"You know what I meant.", Meryl hissed. Charlie slowly shook his head, chuckling as she crossed her arms over her chest.

 

 _I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Where's your room?_ , he wrote back, beside the Olympic dick.

 

 _Stress relief_. Charlie pencilled over its shaft. _Before we skate for the judges_.

 

Meryl regarded him with perhaps the most sickened look she could muster and turned away, choosing instead to focus on Michelle Kwan's earrings while she said something probably cheesy, and probably vague, about how "-much _inspiration_ and _experience_ is in this room." Sighing, Charlie turned back to his paper, shading in the M in the middle of a gray circle, for the University of Michigan, where he and Meryl went to school. It was fifteen minutes, exactly three usages of the phrase " _your dreams are within reach_ ", and half of a second Olympic dick drawn into the opposite side of the rings before he heard back from her.

 

 _66,_ she wrote.

 

_Irresistible._

 

 _Anal?_ Charlie replied. Meryl smacked his hand and proceeded to spend the rest of the hour curled into her desk chair, her back facing Charlie. The last he cared to see of her, she had taken an uncharacteristic interest in Jeremy Abbott's clean-pressed white shirt, and Charlie when back to work on the Olympic dick.

 

* * *

 

 

Meryl's room was in the middle of the girls' Olympic training dorms, overlooking the basketball court where last year; all of Team USA had filmed trick shots out of the movie _Space Jam_. It had been Alex's idea, and despite skating with his sister (proving he had _no_ balls)- the kid had his moments.

 

"Still a dick-swinging asshole, huh?" Ashley Wagner, resident of room number 65, where she sat outside on the carpeted hallway twirling her hair, finally said, seeing him come up the stairs.

 

"Something like that. Still good old Two-Foot Wagner?", he teased.

 

"You love it."

 

Charlie would often ask himself _why_ , when he enjoyed fucking gorgeous blonde Tanith and fucked Meryl to get ahead in the competition; he had never fucked Ashley. She was all brazen confidence and had beautiful ( _really_ beautiful) bright eyes that hadn't yet lost their sparkle. He would have found her wholly attractive, if he hadn't known she would eat him alive if she were hungry enough; and Ashley, for being so small- was always _hungry_.

 

Sometimes she reminded him of looking in a mirror, and as fucked up as what he was doing was; wanting to fuck yourself was even more so. Charlie did not know what Ashley did when she was not competing or who she was away from the ice, and rarely saw her unless they were at Camp, or at Nationals. But he was as sure as the ocean is wet that Ashley could not be fucked with. She was an outlier of the equation, which bothered and excited him all the same.

 

"So, since you and Meryl are gonna do shit I shouldn't even know about, I'm gonna go- do something. Gain direction in my life.", she told him, standing and hoisting her skating bag off the carpet.

 

"Gain a lutz."

 

"You're so fucked up, Charlie."

 

Ashley's perfectly straightened ponytail was swinging behind her as she skipped down the hallway, shaking her head.

 

* * *

 

 

Inside, Meryl was sitting on her bed, her chin perched atop her knees, in a tiny matching set of pink and yellow lingerie which Charlie had the disturbing notion must have come form the children's section for how _silly_ she looked, dressed like that.  But in the four years he had fucked Meryl, he had discovered the formula which made them winners; _a) fuck her in the dark_ , and _b) don't say a word_.

 

Charlie nodded in mock approval, cupping her face in his hands while she flicked the light switch off. His fingers pulled at the waistband of her panties and deftly unhooked her bra, tracing the ribs where it fell with his fingertips.

 

He and Meryl had been together since they were eight and nine years old, and he hated the hold she had on him. She would always have a hold on him, he realized, as her body grew warm and lush with sweat and their lips trailed mechanical kisses over pale collarbones and stubbed jaws.

 

Charlie knew Meryl better than anyone in the world.

 

That was why they fucked with the lights off, so he would not have to see the saltwater he tasted in her kisses.

 

_Fuck feelings._

* * *

 

 

The next morning, after he had texted Tanith (assuring her she was stunning, as always) until they could both watch the sun rise over the mountains on FaceTime together; Ashley found Charlie outside their sports psychologists' makeshift office, set up in the back cafeteria of their training centre. She held a Styrofoam plate heaped with shortbread and a blueberry scone topped with whipped cream. Her lips were smeared with shortbread crumbs.

 

"What the fuck, Ash?"

 

"Traded- wif- the Zamboni driver.", she explained as she swallowed her shortbread. "Colorado's good people. I'm gonna kill myself  and go haunt Adam if I ever have to eat quinoa again."

 

" _Amen_.", said Charlie, taking half of the scone for himself.

 

"Don't even ask, just take whatever you want.", she teased in a sing-song voice. "When are you?"

 

"Nine- thirfy.", he told her through a mouthful of scone.

 

The addition of mandatory sports psychologist check-ups at Camp was something which has only taken hold in the past couple of years, though everyone had expected it to come eventually. Luckily for America's best skaters, the budget had only allowed them Dr. Arthur Wells, who had finished at the bottom of his class and almost hosted half of the drunken debauchery between training sessions.

 

Those particular details had never _technically_ been proven- but there was no evidence to suggest Arthur was not _both_ a shitty doctor and the main source of the alcohol that would somehow be sneaked in to the Camp each year.

 

"Ten. I heard we got an actual doctor this season."

 

"Shit! No way."

 

"I heard from Jeremy and we all know he's probably why.", said Ashley, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling fan. "But, it's an Olympic season, you know? The entire country finally gives a shit, and…I don't want to lose it with everyone _watching_."

 

* * *

 

 

Really, Charlie's appointment began at 9:45, fifteen minutes late, thanks to Ashley. She had pasted her face to the cafeteria's glass window, and pretended to be a fish until Charlie cracked a smile in the middle of reporting his current address to the all-new, presumably improved actual doctor Alexa something Russian. Then she bobbed up and down, her ponytail bouncing behind her, shooting up peace signs around her eyes. Charlie tried to wave her off while Alexa something Russian poured herself a coffee, and she put up the middle finger.

 

Charlie chuckled softly.

 

"Something is funny?", asked Alexa (in her kind of cute accent, if Charlie had liked foreigners), glancing towards the window. Ashley's eyes widened, and she glared at him, realizing she had been caught. 

 

"It's just, Ashley's kind of weird. You can see she's messed up, clearly.", he laughed weakly, hoping Alexa would go the way Arthur had and shrug off her duties to go hiking up the mountains and offer Charlie a fifth of vodka to pass the time.

 

"I see distraction, only." Alexa took a sip from her thermos and strode towards the door, her five-inch heels clicking against the tile floor. She was wide, but solidly built, like a weightlifter or a wrestler. It would not have surprised him to find out in another life, she had been one or both under the Soviet flag. When the door swung open, she took up its entire frame, blocking Ashley from Charlie's line of sight.

 

"Miss Wagner, you understand you need psychological release form to compete for United States?"

 

"Yeah- I just, was trying to calm my friend down in there.", he heard her giggle.

 

"Special friend?"

 

"Um…no."

 

"Then you wait. I know my professional opinion is not taken seriously here but that is going to change, understood?" Charlie cringed. _Shit._

 

"Yes…um. I'm sorry?"

 

Alexa shut the door on Ashley. "She's nice girl, yes?"

 

"Yeah…"

 

The rest of their appointment could only be described as a lukewarm trainwreck. It was not a fiery disaster that would have been impossible to salvage but interesting at the end of the day, but instead, their conversation stalled; awkwardly as Alexa jumped between questions and Charlie struggled to keep up. He was foggy with alcohol and sex, disinterested in this brand of bullshit by virtue of being himself.

 

Charlie informed her his parents were still together, no, money was not a struggle, yes, he was in a stable relationship, no, she did not mind his absences. _Either_ she did not mind his absences, but Alexa stayed oblivious to he and Meryl's special training. According to the rapidly filling columns in her notebook, Meryl was to Charlie a very consistent partner (not a lie) and he fully understood the gravity of the position they now found themselves in.

 

"Wait- stop. Your position is…to say, competitive position, yes? Standing?", she asked, and Charlie nodded.

 

"Yeah, I mean yes- it's been a significant investment in our lives and in this sport and I'm very happy that I have such a consistent partner.", he repeated, focusing on the exit sign just above Alexa's head.

 

"But how is it that you feel about _partnership_?"

 

 _Well,_ Charlie thought, _how were you supposed to feel about fucking your skating partner?_

 

"It's mutual. We're a good team, physically matched and-"

 

"Yes, but about Meryl. How you feel about her?"

 

"I can see she's a strong skater. She's  flexible. She's fast."

 

Alexa nodded. "You are friends off-ice?"

 

Charlie exhaled. "We have a great working relationship. I don't see that that's important."

 

"Of course not. Okay, Mister _almost-Seventeen Years_ , we only go through your file now. Then I will sign this and see the very excited Miss Wagner outside."

 

"Wait. My…file?", Charlie wondered aloud, as Alexa pulled a fat Manila folder from a clear plastic box at her feet.

 

 It was this point that the train's engine began to smoke, signalling the fiery wreck to come.

 

There was a tipping point in any elite sport where one could do as they pleased, and they were indispensable. You could be Tiger Woods or the one swimmer who had been caught with weed or most of the NBA (strictly according to supermarket tabloids- Charlie was not a basketball fan and had no way of proving _those_ rumors) and whatever you were doing could be swept under the rug, if you were good enough.

 

Like, say, if you were your country's _only_ hope at a gold medal in figure skating in the current Olympic cycle, then they might be willing to give you a free pass.

 

But that did not mean they just _forgot._

 

Alexa was skimming through Charlie's file, her left eyebrow raising higher and higher over the right. "I did not expect-"

 

In a kind of twisted way, he could not find it inside himself to fault her for that. People expected an Olympic athlete to be the kind of person described in Charlie's thick file like he expected to wake up tomorrow and find out that Meryl had magically transformed into Miss Universe. There was ironic, then there was just flat out can't-make-it-up _ridiculous._

 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

 

"Yeah, I didn't think people wrote that much about me, either."

 

Charlie let his voice fill the sudden emptiness of the room.

 

Alexa cleared her throat.

 

"Charlie. Why- this is my last question. Why do you want to skate? What is it that this sport has to offer you?"

 

"I dunno, I'm probably gay and I just wanna get laid."

 

He had said the very first thing that came to his mind, snapping at her, and immediately regretted it. After seeing all of that, he did not need to prove to the person who held the keys to the rest of his career that he was indeed exactly as he appeared on paper.

 

"I will sign release, and have you on your way. Just…answer that question."

 

A pause lingered between them, and Alexa shuffled reports in his file, tracing highlighted passages with her rhinestone-tipped manicured nails.

 

"I'm _fucking_ turning twenty-six years old and yeah, I'm aware- I drink like a sloppy bitch and I'm a shitty student who's kind of a angry jerk and kind of dick to his mother-", said Charlie, covering all of his bases."-so yeah- this, okay- _skating_ is pretty much the only thing I have going for me. Sign that sheet or don't, but don't you think I _deserve_ one shot at a good thing?"

 

 _Actual fucking doctor_ Alexa something Russian nodded slowly. " _No_. I do not. But, God Bless the USA, yes?"

 

The very second her signature had been scrawled on to the dotted line at the bottom of his release form, Charlie snatched it away, leaving the top of the page crumpled in his fist.

 

" _Fuck you_."

 

* * *

 

 

Tomorrow, he and Meryl would skate for a panel of judges, for the first time that season.

 

_Fuck!_

_Gain direction_ , he saw Ashley's face bubble up in his imagination.

 

 _66,_ he saw in Meryl's loopy handwriting.

 

 _Get laid,_ Charlie remembered himself saying.

 

 _Get fucked,_ he told himself now. 

 

Six months to Sochi; documented dick-swinging asshole and sex-fiend Charlie White was well on the way to fucking it _all_ up.

 

_As usual._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More plot stuff to come in the next chapter. I just kind of wanted to set up the world this AU takes place in here, first.


	2. Champs Camp 2013; Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Pleasantly surprised to see my and one person aren't bad boy Charlie's only fans! Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! There's more Meryl in this chapter, and a few more introductions and stuff, but the plot does get moving!This one's long, though- sorry!

 Meryl woke to the sound of her phone, vibrating against the smooth metal of desk/filing cabinet combo beside her bed. What anyone needed both a desk and a filing cabinet for in a cramped dorm where they would stay for a week at most was beyond her. She reached for it while it buzzed, blinking her eyes against the sunlight streaming through her window.

 

The picture on her screen brought a small smile to her face, as she collapsed back into her grey, scratchy bedsheets and tried to find the tiny, comfortable, space where she had finally fallen asleep the night before. The moment she swiped to accept the call, he was already speaking, and she was filled with a beautiful sensation of warmth.

 

"Babe. Just me, checking in 'cause I can't live by myself. I don't wanna call my mom or do any embarrassing shit like that, so you mind telling me where our pancake mix is?", asked Fedor Andreev, her actual Abercrombie model status boyfriend.

 

"Under the sink! Like always."

 

When he had booked the campaign, just after they had started dating, Fedor insisted on driving to the only mall in the county where he was featured on an underwear ad at the front of the store. It was somewhere between riding with the top down in his expensive Italian import and sharing crepes from a food truck outside, sitting on the hood of his car ("I don't care if you scuff it up, baby.", he had told her. "I never told anyone that before, but I don't give a fuck.") while he discussed his favorite Russian novels that Meryl had absolutely fallen in love with Charlie's best friend, and the son of their skating coach, Marina.

 

Since birth, Meryl had been a _Fixer_ , and unlike Charlie, who she liked to think she would not miss if he fell right into the Colorado Springs, Fedor was an appealing, admiring, project who worshipped the ground she walked on as much as she needed him to feel gratified.

 

Among his illustrious accomplishments, he had dated Tanith, too- and sometimes in Meryl's mind, when she was drinking from her parents' liquor cabinet, house-sitting while they were in Florida and sorely missing attention, she would think of it as a trade between them and knock back the scotch to wash away the bitter taste from her tongue.

 

Fedor had dated Tessa, too, before her; and the sick satisfaction it gave Meryl to not _only_ be his best friend's girl and chosen above her toughest competition was more delicious than her mother's favorite brand of strawberry wine. When she felt like this, she would call him over, and they would drink, watch a _film_ (never a movie) and fall asleep together, and while Meryl would never think of herself as pining after a boy; perhaps that was why she kept Fedor around.

 

For the sex; and because when she was with him, she was _invincible._

 

Fedor chuckled. "Shit, Mer- that's where my vodka is."

 

"Okay, well; you said you wanted breakfast, right?"

 

"Damn straight, especially when you're not around, beautiful. How do I do this?"

 

It was all she could do to keep the blush from rising to her cheeks. Fedor really knew how to keep a girl's heart beating.

 

"You do it because you love me. And I promise, I totally promise once this season is over, we're going on vacation. Just the two of us, somewhere amazing.", she let herself dream aloud.

 

"With my gold medal-winning girlfriend, right? Imagine that."

 

" _Fedor_ -"

 

"Yeah, I know you don't want to think about it. Baby, you're alone now, right?", he asked. Meryl could hear eggs cracking, and sizzling on a skillet. She swore if she closed her eyes, she could almost smell Fedor's slightly overwhelming cologne and in-car air-freshener scent, and feel him playing with her hair ("Why won't you ever cut it? I think you'd be cute no matter what.") while she flipped pancakes; like he did when they made breakfast together at home.

 

"Yes, babe. I know I joke around a lot about going after Jeremy but I think between the two of us, he's more your type."

 

"Hey! And you never know, what about Gracie? She's a real ice princess!"

 

"You're not getting your weird lesbian fantasy, Fedor. Move on."

 

"Okay, _fine._ Moving on. I have the craziest piece of rink gossip."

 

"Oh, my God!", Meryl feigned squealing. "Okay, who came out?"

 

"Jacqui White lost her job."

 

" _What?!_ "

 

* * *

 

 

" _Fuck that bitch._ I hate her. _So. Much._ ", said Ashley, slamming the door of Adam's room behind her.

 

"Welcome to the party, babygirl. Glad to have you, too.", he laughed, tossing her a can of the beer from the cooler under his bed. Ashley caught it with ease, and sank down to the floor of the cramped dorm beside Charlie.

 

While drinking before noon on a weekday was likely not socially acceptable in any way, shape, or form; the three of them were feeling woefully short on the partying hours which made Champs Camp a true _experience_ (to quote possible robot Michelle Kwan) and had planned to get together with some of the other skaters before their flights left later in the day.

 

Charlie, his temper growing shorter by the second,  had meandered through the training complex before knocking three times (then six) on Adam Rippon's door, just five down from his; necessitating a slight change in their plan.

 

Bleary-eyed and clearly harboring what Charlie usually went to his dear friend, Arthur Wells, for- Adam had answered his door and wordlessly waved Charlie inside. In the haze of post-Doctor Alexa rage which was only beginning to dissipate, he had wildly surveyed the room, and kicked at the mound of clothing spilling out of Adam's bag on the floor.

 

" _Why the fuck would you bring your PlayStation when you're only gonna be here for three days?_ ", Charlie had howled.

 

Adam shrugged and collapsed back on his bed. "Well, I heard my room had a TV. Besides You seem like you could use some Mario Kart yourself.", he muttered.

 

"Fuck off."

 

"Fine. But I also brought _Bioshock_. And _Gears of War_ or whatever, I mean, I think that's from Josh, but I digress."

 

The two of them had passed the rest of the time before Ashley's appointment finished switching between the games, drinking beer from Adam's cooler. Charlie had poured his can into the clear plastic cups he found in Adam's drawer, since he would still have to skate later that day. He would down a cup like a shot every few minutes, which was exactly as juvenile as it sounded, though he had to admit, maybe it played with his head in the most perfect way. He felt buzzed on barely half of the can already, a pleasant escape from how he had felt after leaving the cafeteria- that is, torn between jumping out of the window of Meryl's bedroom and crying until he flooded all of Colorado. The crying was the most troubling, as Charlie would have been lost, completely, if he were to become a bleeding heart little bitch.

 

Whoever had decided that alcohol was a depressant had never tried it with whatever brain chemicals had coursed through his head after the disaster of his psychological evaluation.

 

Apparently, the fiery trainwreck trend had continued through Ashley's, too; and while Charlie as a rule did not invest himself emotionally in the problems of others (that was the first step to becoming a bleeding heart little bitch) he listened with some interest, pausing he and Adam's game while their friend vented.

 

"-she's _clearly_ projecting her internalized shit on to me!  She says that I have a _compulsive need to prove myself_ and my mouth is gonna get me in trouble. Like…she wishes my mouth was in her pussy."

 

"Your mouth does get you in trouble.", Adam laughed. "And where did you even learn a word like _internalizing_? You're in community college."

 

" _Masters of Sex_. It's actually a good show and it's not like…porny.", she supplied.

 

"Terrible show then.", Charlie joked. Ashley tossed her now-empty can in his direction.

 

Charlie greatly envied Ashley and Adam's relationship, where they could freely trash one another only to be greeted with a smile, or a shrug, and sometimes, he saw them hug after both of their mothers had been thoroughly insulted after a particularly harsh practice session. Maybe, Charlie had thought in the past, they could do all of that because fucking wasn't a part of what they did- but then again, there had been Meryl and Tanith _before fucking_ , too- yet he had never been able to call Meryl _a messy slut_ and only have her lightly whack him on the shoulder and then nuzzle into his shoulder.

 

He had called Tanith _a great cunt_ once, which he meant literally, and been treated to an hours-long lecture about feminism courtesy of her new Women's Studies textbook. During the lecture, he'd told Tanith that if she truly wanted to _study_ women, then he would drive her to the lesbian bar; which had begun the explosive fight leading to the very first in their series of Two-Week Break-Ups.

 

"Wait…how do you even _afford_ cable? Ash, I used to live with you. You literally cooked dirt off the ground _at least twice_ and fed it to me."

 

Ashley's lips curled up in an impish grin. "I guess you could say I came into money… _recently_."

 

Adam groaned. "I hope you didn't actually rob the Wells Fargo down the street. Because I was joking, and 'female assailant' on the news was awfully specific, and I think- I mean, of all the things that are gonna get you kicked off the Olympic team, that might do it." 

 

Charlie laughed along with him, eyes trained to the ground. He had never robbed a bank, or really felt compelled to do so, yet something about Adam, his wide grin or the teasing lilt in his voice when he said _that might do it_ hurt in a way Charlie only wanted to drink through until he no longer wanted to understand. He had two of the little plastic cups left, and took a shot.

 

"Ew. I hate that bank. No, it's just…I mean, it's kind of silly now that I really think about it- so let's just say the more embarrassing and cheesy stuff is, the more they pay you."

 

" _No._ " Adam stretched the word out, so it sounded like there were a hundred o's attached to the end of his sentence. "You can't just say that and leave us hanging! _Stripping!_ That's embarrassing. And could be cheesy- Wagner, _have you been stripping to pay Mr. Nicks? Holy shit!_ "

 

Adam was clearly enjoying his fantasy, and all Ashley could do was giggle at his enthusiasm at her possible pole-dancing career. Charlie was acutely aware of being a third wheel then, and took his last shot of the beer. It had stopped helping, which was depressing to think of at first, then annoying, as he found himself reaching for the cooler and drawing his hand back again, remembering that he would once again have to deal with Meryl later in the afternoon.

 

"I wasn’t stripping. I just did these ads and got sponsored. Like normal people do.", she told them, rolling her eyes at Adam.  "Like…well, I had some for the hotels and CoverGirl, but I got the biggest paycheck from these ads for an insurance company  for these little PSA things about underage drinking."

 

If laughter could be measured on a seismic scale, Adam would have registered a 6.0.

 

" _Oh,ho, ho, ho! Oh, my God! Shit!_ Dude, that's worse than being a stripper. That's like- you're such a fucking hypocrite!", he shouted. "That's _awesome_!"

 

" _Wrong_.", she said, with a sigh, poking her friend's side. "I _hate_ underage drinking. Not drinking."

 

Charlie scoffed. "C'mon, Adam's got it- we all got wasted as kids too."

 

"No-we all, or at least _I_ drank alcohol when I was…a little young. I wasn't going to these wild parties getting pictures taken of me without pants on and doing stuff to guys that would make my grandparents roll in their graves. That's not cool; and I wouldn't want, you know, those little girls at the rink doing stuff like that. It's just kinda sick."

 

" _Aw, getting deep with Ashley Wagner._ ", Adam teased in a saccharine voice an octave higher than his own.

 

"Besides-", Ashley reasoned, slapping the back of her hand lightly against his chest, "-I'd say more stupid shit if they paid me more."

 

More laughing. More drinking. Charlie's friends, lost in their own world, had dissolved into a conversation of touches and inside jokes, and whatever rage he had left over from the morning was beginning to froth in his stomach.

 

"I want one. A sponsor, I mean.", he said suddenly, breaking up their murmuring of sickening pet names at each other.

 

"Oh, fuck you- we _all_ know your parents are gazillionaires." Adam shook his head, as if he were disgusted that Charlie could ever want more money.

 

"So? It's not like my Mom's paying my bills! And y'know, maybe I wanna get Tanith something nice. Or get a better car."

 

"I'm pretty sure the nicest thing you ever got Tanith was your dick.", Ashley deadpanned, sending her and Adam into a fit of giggles. Not that her statement was a lie. Charlie had gotten Tanith jewelry and clothes to celebrate the end of each Two-Week Break-Up Cycle, but clearly, it was their amazing sex life which kept those periods short and kept her hungry for more. "And I bet your Mom _does_ pay your bills.", she added. "She goes to like… _all_ your competitions and I mean, I love my Mom but I haven't seen her since Christmas."

 

Charlie felt heat rise to his cheeks. That was true, but the last thing he ever wanted was Jacqui holding his hand. True to form (which was, she was a fucking bitch, too) that was all she seemed to want from him.

 

"No, she doesn't.", he snapped. "And…I dunno, it would be good to have a little more in the bank, right? Just call it the party fund. Apparently, you have to pay your strippers now.", he played it all off as a joke, which while admittedly weaker than his other material, seemed to do the trick for Ashley and Adam.

 

"In Detroit? _No way!_ "

 

Just like that, things were all back to normal, and Charlie was resisting reaching for the cooler again, feeling a burn in his throat much stronger than alcohol would have been coming up.

 

* * *

 

 

Meryl found Jeremy sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, at a table with Jason Brown and Joshua Farris, the sweet, young, Chicago boys who made up the rest of J3, which was the absolutely horrible exclusively-Disney cover singing group Jeremy had coined at Nationals last year ("Mer, you want to know what's better that 3D? J3!"). If Jeremy cared at all that the other two J's would be breathing down his neck for their place at the Olympics early in the New Year, he hardly let on, chattering excitedly with them about his favorite orders from the Chipotle secret menu.

 

Aside from Charlie, Meryl had realized suddenly, when she had started college and really come out of her shell; that most of the other skaters on Team USA were actually kind of nice. Even Ashley and Adam, who gave her assclown partner the time of day, had their moments of being intelligent and interesting in conversation, and wonderful people she felt pride in calling her teammates. _Jeremy_ was her stand-out guy, though- best friends since the pre-friend days when she and Charlie had only been juniors and she was trapped into only speaking to him, while he called her names and tried to kiss her to make her angry. Jeremy had always been there, offering her a shoulder to cry on and the extra seat at dinner with he and his mother whenever they happened to travel to the same competitions("I always kinda wanted a sassy little sister anyway! We'll just work on the sass."). Now, she needed him more than anything.

 

"Oooh, someone's _JBF_.", Josh snickered. Jason shook his head at his friend, and Meryl and Jeremy both shared a look of confusion between them. Jeremy had, personally; only recently figured out the third screen of Emoji icons on his phone.

 

J… _Jeremy's_ B… _Best_ F… _Friend_?, Meryl thought, puzzled that the latest college text lingo was absolutely beyond her. _That sounds good._

 

"Definitely.", she said with a smile, sliding into a seat next to the younger skaters. "Always and forever."

 

Josh's mouth dropped open and Jason visibly cringed.

 

" _Oh, my God._ ", he groaned, tugging on the end of his ponytail. "It means…uh, it means _Just Been Fucked._ "

 

Meryl's eyes widened in abject horror.

 

"What? It was _his_ idea!", he protested, pointing exaggeratedly at Josh. " _You're sick, man_!"

 

"Hey, I _had_ a girlfriend! I know what fucking is.", the other boy offered in his defense.

 

Jeremy only shook his head at the two of them, his tiny smile barely concealed behind a cup of orange juice. "You guys both need to get out more. As in, right now- J3 meeting over thanks to _you_ gross little pervs. I'm in need of some… _classier_ company."

 

Meryl breathed a sigh of relief she had not yet realized she was holding in as the boys, still pretending to bicker with each other as they waved goodbye to Jeremy, went to find another table at the opposite end of the room. Once they were safely out of sight, toying with Gracie Gold's hair as she smacked them away in the far right corner, Meryl lowered her head to the table's cool plastic surface and shut her eyes.

 

" _Please tell me they don't know._ "

 

"Of course not. They're just…kids…being stupid.", Jeremy soothed. He had clasped her hand in his, tight and warm in a way none of her boyfriends had ever been. "It's okay, Meryl. Oh, my God. I'm sorry."

 

"Don't be. I mean, I did this to myself, right? Because nothing matters more to me than winning and I'm a soulless, stupid, bitch." She looked up at him, barely able to keep the tears from swimming in her eyes.

 

"C'mon. Don't say that. I like winning, too. And you know, Mer- I wish we'd just been pairs partners sometimes.", he said, softly, in that beautiful, comforting voice of his. Jeremy stood from the table and looked down at her, his grin widening. "You know- if we didn't have such a crappy height difference. Sorry I wasn't short enough. But hey, let's go somewhere else, okay?"

 

She took his invitation and burrowed into his side, not bothering to look up as Jeremy led them through a maze of hallways.

 

"You can open your eyes now. _Surprise!_ ", he teased, gently. "Now tell me everything."

 

They were outside, in the hardly-traveled back half of the Olympic training center, which spilled into the gorgeous Colorado mountains. The forest shade hung above them, and the sun warmed their faces as they began walking through on a slightly muddied trail. Jeremy kicked aside stones as they walked, and Meryl, without hesitation, told him the news she had heard from Fedor.

 

Jacqui White, easily their most ardent supporter since the very beginning of Davis and White, and Big Charlie (Charlie's father, who Meryl was constantly shocked was both a _decent_ man and had been involved in _every day_ of her partner's miserable life) had folded their oil firm in with a bigger distribution company. It seemed the right decision to make, since it guaranteed them a retainer and a good kickback from the clients they brought on board, until late-stage belt-tightening had hit and another decision was made in a boardroom that Meryl suspected, had no idea and did not care either way who she and Charlie were. Big Charlie would be paid the retainer to work as a head within the company. Jacqui, and the kickbacks, were _fiscally infeasible, sorry._

 

The money which paid Charlie's half of their skating careers was down the drain, save for Jacqui's retirement fund, the White family's (probably considerable) savings, and whatever else they had lying around to cover the costs of year 17 of training into the Olympic season. Meryl had already calculated, with the help of the internet; the projected losses of selling your company to a huge conglomerate and becoming an employee, and worked herself into a panic suddenly realizing (with a little bit of help from the Reported Annual Cost of Living in Oakland County, posted to their city website) all the best assumed, the Whites would no longer exactly be living with _skating money_  so freely available.

 

_Did they know that?,_ she had wondered, after ending her call with Fedor. She had chastised herself immediately afterwards. As if skating was high on anyone's list of priorities after losing half their yearly income and becoming just another casualty of Detroit, Michigan.

 

"- and I feel so guilty, because I can't just ask, you know?"

 

Jeremy nodded, as if he understood, what it was like to have your career hanging in the balance thanks to something so simple, yet so elusive, as a few thousand more dollars.

 

"Couldn't you pay for it without her, though? Like, from the Grand Prix?"

 

"Charlie spent all of his money from last year on booze.", she scoffed. "And his _stupid_ car. Oh, and probably _girls_ , too.", Meryl added out of spite. Her own winnings paid for her tiny, perfectly college-student condo and gas, tuition, and textbooks. _Fricking textbooks_. There was their federation funding, which paid for the coaching, not the sessions, the flights, the costumes, and the million other things she was slowly starting to realize cost money.

 

"What about-", Jeremy stopped short before the thin, shallow creek which traced a path beside them on the trail.

 

"His half was always bigger."

 

" _Oh._ "

 

The crux of the first secrets she kept from Fedor were that the Davises were well-off, enough to have perfectly normal suburbanite lives, but not like the Whites, who could afford to do so twice, or Fedor and Marina; who jetted off on near-weekly vacations with her  boyfriend every other week of the off season.

 

"You could…you know…", Jeremy paused to take his phone out of his pocket, shaking it as thought that might help him get reception in the mountains. " _Dammit._ Okay. Try the internet inside. But hey, you've seen Ashley's Highmark ads, right?"

 

"The insurance company? Really? Since when?"

 

"Probably retribution for her DUI. _Kidding._ But, why don't you and Charlie actually get sponsored? Like, I know you've always paid for it before- but you guys are gonna win that gold medal no matter what, and I bet a lot of people would love to jump on the gravy train. So, I mean- it'll probably be easy to get like, a toothpaste company to sign you or something." Jeremy was clearly excited by these possibilities ("What about shampoo? Your hair is awesome!"), and chattered as the hiked back up to the training center.

 

"Yeah…but first, they'd have to meet us, and Charlie's… _unreliable_ , I mean- in person.", Meryl said. What she meant was usually buzzed, usually angry, and always, always, ready to shoot her down with his crap-eating smile and the promise to make it up later.

 

"Maybe they don't have to. Like, your agent's known forever that Charlie's full of shit. So if you went through her, maybe you'd just have to like, put our a press release or do a photoshoot, and America would think you guys are totally great."

 

Meryl nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. Despite the glowing sunshine of mid-afternoon, she felt like she was freezing from the inside out. _Maybe I am frigid. And Calculating. Selfish and a horrible person._ , she thought.

 

"I guess."

 

"If that doesn't work, I mean- I'm pretty sure my parents wouldn't miss some money if I told them I was buying a new TV. Like…it's really not the end of the world, Mer. And besides, after this season, you're finally gonna get to have some fun. With me."

 

She shook her head, but Jeremy's happiness was contagious and she could barely help the smile which tugged at her lips as the wound their way back to the cafeteria.

 

"I'm taking Fedor on vacation first, Jer. But after that…"

 

"You and me. Japan. _That's_ a promise. But first, aren't you skating with Charlie soon?"

 

His name burned through her, just like last night's drinks coming back up.

 

_JBF._

 

_And again. And Again. And Again._

 

* * *

 

 

For their short dance, the half of the competition which featured a compulsory pattern dance, Marina had chosen selection from the movie  _My Fair Lady_. Thanks to the budget, they had only been able to afford a low-rent cover version starring a woman who would be Julie Andrews probably as soon as Meryl would be good company. Charlie shook his head as he saw her enter the rink, with Jeremy Abbott, headcase extraordinaire, by her side. He thought the two of them deserved each other, which was just as well since he hated them both (Jeremy by extension only) with equal measure. Clearly, last night had done little to loosen up his pain in the ass of a partner, who looked tense as ever while she laced up her skates.

 

Admittedly, Charlie was no fan of the program, either- thinking it just too sweet and lovey-dovey, but Marina only liked two things on this plane of existence, and they were _1)romance_ , and _2)yelling_. The more romantic subtext she worked into a skating program, the less she yelled. Or to put it simply, this was why the Shibutanis were technically perfect skaters, and their programs sucked more than another Two-Week Break-Up with Tanith. Still, _My Fair Lady_ was not so difficult that he (or Meryl) really struggled through it. Their twizzles were off by a tenth of a second, and Charlie thought the animosity between them was palatable as Meryl stared straight ahead, at the hockey scoreboard while they spun into the chorus of _I Could Have Danced all Night_.

 

Or not, as according to International Judge Number One, they looked _beautiful_ and _effortless_ , save for two tiny mistakes that would be resolved with just a few hour more practice. Whatever judges smoked, Charlie wanted (despite being asthmatic) by virtue of the fact they all missed so much. He would love to see the love they did, if only because that would be a huge trip.

 

"You were on the wrong blade in the step sequence.", Meryl hissed under her breath while they took a break for water.

 

"So what? Nobody called it. Quit being such a bitch.", Charlie shot at her between sips.

 

"They'll call it at the Olympics and I don't want to be the biggest Olympic losers ever with two silvers behind Tessa and Scott. Work harder."

 

" _Work harder._ ", he mocked. "Just shut up and skate, Meryl."

 

On the other hand, their free dance? Well, that one- that was the _masterpiece._

 

Charlie had chosen _Scheherazade_ , which he had heard once on the NPR in his car and instantly felt drawn to, and Meryl had wordlessly agreed, as always. Afterwards, he had looked up the piece on Wikipedia, and become captivated by the two-sentence summary, which was almost the most reading he had done all year. It was about a guy, a king of Arabia or whatever, who fucked girls for fun and then killed them. Except this one girl, Scherezade, who kept him coming back by telling him a story. So she had a hold on him, that he hated, and a thousand and one nights later, there they were. He was in love with her story (the page said with _her,_ but Charlie knew it was probably and exaggeration) and she had captured him, because that's what a self-preserving bitch ought to do.

 

While he certainly respected how _clever_ Scherezade was, having saved her own life, Charlie knew it was he and Meryl's story. She had a hold on him, and he had fallen so far in love with the promise of becoming Charlie White, Gold Medal Winner, that everything else no longer mattered.

 

When they skated, Charlie was at once a changed man, a king who was so hypnotized by what Scherezade promised that he was following her like a kicked puppy, leaving his dignity at the door and the kingdom falling to pieces. If he let his eyes slip closed for a second, Charlie almost saw the story for himself, and suddenly, Meryl was gone and a beautiful temptress glided with him across the ice.

 

He had probably drank too much with Ashley and Adam, but the program felt incredible. _Was incredible._

 

They were both breathing heavily as the final note echoed through the closed arena, and Marina, at the boards, was clapping like she was one of their mothers. This program was as much her baby, at the end of the day, as it was the past 17 years, thousands more nights, of their lives. While the judges took notes, and nodded eagerly at one another, she met them at the side with water bottles and towels.

 

"Only one _little_ problem in performance. Technique, beautiful. But in middle-", she gestured towards center ice, "- _show your passion._ Like-", and then, Marina paused, to do what Charlie could only describe as single-person grinding, making grabbing motions towards the ceiling. "We talk about this more at home, but more… _erotic,_ yes? But for now, get the scores!"

 

Charlie and Meryl shared a look of mutual disbelief. Just Marina saying the word erotic in connection with Meryl made Charlie's skin crawl, especially as she scowled at him when they skated to the judges table to collect their protocols. As predicted, they were Olympic-ready, close to perfect by a week before their first competition of the season, which satisfied the both of them enough for now.

 

"What are we gonna do-", Meryl started, as the were unlacing their skates, and Charlie watched Evan Bates and his partner, Madison, take to the ice. "-about Jacqui?"

 

Charlie shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, _yeah,_ my mom's an overbearing bitch, but like, what do _you_ want to do with her?"

 

"I mean, about her…", Meryl stopped herself, and her brow furrowed in confusion as she watched her partner, with his stupid crap-eating smile, stow away his extra pair of blade guards. She realized with a start that _he had no idea._

 

Jacqui, or Big Charlie, or anyone had never called to tell him what had happened.

 

_Because…_ she thought, _because that would make him mad. And no one wants that._

 

"It's nothing. Never mind. But I…I was talking to some people earlier, and I thought we could look into getting some sponsorships this season. Having spending money would be good, right?"

 

To Meryl's utter surprise, Charlie took on a look of absolute happiness as her suggestion washed over him. "Holy shit. _You actually had a good idea._ Shit! Yeah, I mean, definitely."

 

She swallowed the disgust in her throat and soldiered on. "So…if I called Hailey on Monday and asked her to set up some meetings, would you go?"

 

" _Fuck yeah!_ I mean, party fund here we _fucking_ come!", Charlie shouted, garnering a pointed glare from International Judge Number One, who had, just fifteen minutes before, been one of their biggest fans. Meryl tried her hardest not to roll her eyes.

 

" _Hey._ ",he whispered, soft enough for just the two of them to hear. " _Put it here._ " His hand was held in front of her face, ready for the half-hearted high five she offered up.

 

A few more hours, a short banquet dinner, and Charlie, mixing drinks in the back of their shuttle to the airport; and Champs Camp had ended.

 

Charlie, happily buzzed with a new mystery novel in his backpack from Ashley's collection, boarded _Flight 8774 COS to DTW_  with just a little bit of _hope_ for the new season.

Their programs were _flawless._

 

Meryl wanted sponsorship money like he did, and had even been the one to _suggest_ , rather than bitch and moan about it.

 

Tanith texted him before liftoff, and sent along a truly _impressive_ picture of herself in an expensive, new, matching set of lingerie. Whatever push-up bra magic was sold en masse at the mall was clearly working for her, and she even looked as though she finally had some real cleavage. _Terrific,_ Charlie thought to himself, as he drifted off to sleep with the highest mountains far below him.

 

Meanwhile, Meryl, in the seat behind him, had boarded the flight with just one more secret to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm messing just slightly with the timelines for the origins of their programs, sorry! And I promise the rest of the story will likely be from Charlie's point of view...I just felt like having more of Meryl here. That likely won't happen again until I write the DWTS chapters.


	3. Early September, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes to Charlie's...credibility, let's say.

Tanith had promised Charlie they would make up for his weekend away when he landed, and as their pilot announced that they were descending into Michigan, he was suddenly very excited again. Up until then, he had been forced to watch the in-flight entertainment, which was the news channel (depressing) their flight map (also depressing) and the children's network, which he discovered was airing a rerun of The Wonder Years, one of his favorite shows as a kid.

 

That had been good, but now, all he thought of was _her._

 

Her slick curves and her warm, juicy, mouth; her tongue flavored with chocolate and mint, swallowing him.

 

Tanith never ate much, which Charlie liked because it kept her looking like a model from a magazine, but the woman had a genius living in her mouth. Her mouth was Einstein. Charlie was relativity. He was her bitch, and she was _amazing._

 

He would have her go down on him, her hands held by her wrists behind her back, and watch as her mouth began to work. She had a way of linking her kisses and she trailed down his chest, her tongue darting out occasionally to keep him on his toes. She would sink as she dipped, and then, her teeth would play a dangerous game as her face, sweat beaded at her forehead, sank between his legs. Charlie had no memory of Tanith's face, save for her mouth; during sex (all kinds), but he imagined her eyes screwed shut, as she took tiny, frantic breaths through her nose.

 

He leaned back in his seat, savoring the memory of Tanith.

 

She whimpered when his hips bucked, and he could hear pulsing so loud in his ears he swore he would explode at that very moment.

 

" _Shit._ "

 

Charlie held the SkyMall catalog awkwardly across his front, and dashed to the center of the cabin.

 

"Sir, we're going to need to ask you to get back to your seat. The captain's turned on the seatbelt sign and-"

 

"I don't give a fuck about the seatbelt sign, I'm-", Charlie sputtered, then began to cough. "I- I'm gonna puke. I feel sick. I'm- I have asthma and I have bad reactions to my, um- my meds sometimes. I'll be two seconds-", and with that, he rushed inside the bathroom and sucked in a deep breath. He waited for what seemed like the longest ten seconds in history, before he finally heard the flight attendants as they walked away.

 

"-be fine. The seatbelts are a safety precaution just in case, but if the poor man's really sick in there, it's not like the descent is going to kill him."

 

While the plane went down to Detroit, Charlie pleasured  himself, sitting on the sink counter, his feet resting on top of the airplane toilet, dreaming of Tanith going down on him.

 

 _It was a little bit poetic,_ he thought.

 

But mostly it was just beautiful, her hair, her eyes, her tongue, her hips.

 

_Her._

* * *

 

 

The dream ended not more than an hour afterwards, as he wheeled his luggage through the arrival terminal and rather than being greeted by Tanith's peach-glossed lips, only saw his parents waiting for him on a bench with armrests shaped like airplane wings. His mother, Jacqui, who Charlie saw entirely too much of for her presence to be healthy, and his father, Big Charlie, who had the same dejected look on his face Charlie was sure he had been wearing since the day he was born.

 

Big Charlie's word of the day for the past twenty-five (almost twenty-six) years was disappointment, as in " _Don't be_." Charlie was fairly certain, as he had realized while watching The Silence of the Lambs with his father while they drank his scotch, that Big Charlie would rather have him be a famous serial killer than a pussy who still gritted his teeth at the sight of blood, because one was a disappointment and one was a fucking genius who just happened to be a morbid deviant. Still, Big Charlie was better than Jacqui in his mind, because at least he treated his son like a man rather than a little boy who would never grow up.

 

"Hello, sweetie! How was camp?", she crowed, rushing up to meet him in an embrace. Charlie, arms by his side, shifted uncomfortably. There was a group of teenagers laughing as they pulled their suitcases behind them, and while he had seen one of them pull out a phone and show the others a funny picture, he felt humiliated enough that they may as well have pointed and laughed.

 

" _Mm. Getoff_.", he begged, stifled by the scarf she wore over her light jacket.

 

"I'm just happy you're back. I'm so happy."

 

Charlie groaned and rolled his eyes.

 

"Jesus Christ, Jacqui, you're gonna smother him. For Pete's sake.", Big Charlie said with a curt shake of his head. "Come on. He ain't in the Army even though he's on Team America. Let's go."

 

Charlie, still thinking of Tanith's _incredible_ mouth,  shuffled after his parents with his eyes trained to the floor. He did not need to see the Davises, further up the terminal, peppering Meryl with questions and kisses like she were the most interesting thing in the world, and giving Jeremy (who would be training in Detroit for the year) a little gift bag and invitation to dinner. Luckily, Meryl spotted the Whites and blocked her mother's view while they slipped out the terminal's revolving door.

 

For how shit-all _nuts_ Meryl was most of the time, she was okay and all to have on your team.

 

"Why are you guys here?", Charlie blurted out as their fit hit the asphalt of the airport's parking garage. He had driven himself in his gorgeous eight month old Audi, precisely to avoid his parents when he got back.

 

" _Fuck._ Did they tow my car?"

 

" _Langauge_!", Jacqui chastised, and Charlie felt like kicking something.

 

Big Charlie sighed as they rounded into a section of the garage, and pointed in front of him. "They didn't tow your car. Car's right there, and we took a cab. They did, however, suspend your license. Again. Keys, kid."

 

He held out his hand and Charlie, lips pursed, reluctantly dug into his backpack. It hurt to know his baby would be driven as slowly as his father did.

 

_"Fine."_

 

Once they had crept out of the airport and hit the highway, where Big Charlie drove at basic walking speed, he slid the car into cruise control and turned to face his son in the back.

 

"What the hell did you do now?", he asked, which he said as _"How big of a disappointment are you going to be today?"_

 

Charlie shrugged. "Well, there's this ex-con that goes to the same DMV and since we have really similar plates, whenever he does shi- um, stuff, they go after me. It's really very corrupt and we should call our lawyer."

 

He could hear Jacqui groan and blow a breath out through her lips. "Is it the _first_ time they've thought you were this ex-con?"

 

"Well…nah, it's like the third. I think he's a current con, actually."

 

" _Oh, my God._ "

 

Big Charlie shook with a silent giggle in the driver's seat. Even disappointments, it seemed, had their funny silver linings.

 

"Son-", he began, merging into an exit that would take them back to the suburb where they lived, "-the cop who showed up to serve you on Thursday said you were doing 125 out by the lake. You never wanna get out to Meryl's that fast, so what was it, just some party?"

 

Big Charlie often traded party stories with his son, and when, at age seventeen, Charlie had thrown Bloomfeild Hills, Michigan's most impressive high school kegger, he had nodded and called in the cleaning crew from work. "The ladies always ask me for some more weekend jobs. And you know Maria's son is going up to Eastern in the fall, so it's a blessing, really.", he had said, and if Charlie could be lit from the inside, he would have been shining in that very moment.

 

"Kinda. We were drifting.", he bragged, thrilled to see the tiny smile on his father's face in the rearview mirror.

 

"Charlie, that's dangerous! _You could have killed yourself_! Drifting with- _who_ exactly does this with you?" Jacqui was suddenly  frantic, and Charlie had a vision of his mother clutching her pearls so tightly the little white orbs shattered in her white-knuckled grip.

 

"Well, I was in a heat with _Fedor_ -"

 

"Oh, that little Russian kid! I miss having him come around. Did ya beat him?"

 

"Charlie, _do not_ encourage this."

 

"Yeah…why else would I be going 125?"

 

Big Charlie laughed, the big, booming laugh that Charlie remembered from all of his childhood Christmases, and shook his head. " _Goddamn._ Well, then."

 

They pulled into the driveway of his childhood home, and as Charlie pulled his luggage out of the trunk, Big Charlie rounded the car to give him a mighty clap on the back. The pain that erupted through his shoulder blade was very nearly made worth it when Big Charlie nodded approvingly, and leaned it close to say "I think I might make a few calls to the DMV…get you ex-con problem straightened out."

 

* * *

 

 

Charlie and Meryl's first competition of the year would be US International Classic, which Marina said was a nice "in-house" competition. What that meant in real English was that they were only going to put butts in seats, and everyone else there was going to suck. So, technically- they would fly out to Salt Lake City, handily win first place, and come back in time to start practicing for their Grand Prix Events, which were real competitions where they could win money.

 

Speaking of money, Charlie thought to himself, as he pulled into Arctic Edge Ice Arena a few days after. The deal with the suspended license was still on Big Charlie's table, but since Charlie had not been disappointing as much as mildly criminal in how it had happened, he had gotten his car back with the condition that he would only drive it in the suburbs, where the police were few and far between and could care less if you had just been sprung from a DUI charge that morning. That limited his social life somewhat, since Evan and Alex still lived up in the Ann Arbor house and he would have to thumb rides to get there, until at least another week when his case would have completely slipped through the cracks.

 

Meryl had set up a meeting with their agent, Hailey; who Charlie was well acquainted with since he had, in a way; kind of caused her last divorce. It had been an accident, and he had only kissed her in the hallway of their hotel during a press summit at the National Championships, but since she and her husband had already hated each other since their son Brad had moved out, it was the last straw. Hailey's lawyer had him sign a court statement verifying that he had indeed kissed her, which had made Charlie feel famous for a second.

Since then, they had an unspoken agreement to never speak of it again, though sometimes; he sent her a text that only read _Seattle_ and gleefully imagine her fuming, wherever she was. They were supposed to meet Hailey after they competed at the Classic, and today, Charlie was only here to practice.

 

Practice was drudgery, especially with a partner such as his; but it was necessary since, although Charlie hated Meryl, he would hate to see her be seriously injured. No, Meryl should be allowed to live her life free of pain and suffering. Far away from him, of course. More than that, he would hate to see them lose their lead over Tessa and Scott. One tiny mistake, and it could all be over for them, with such well-matched competition.

 

Scott Moir, as per usual, was playing grab-ass with Tessa Virtue in the rink's hallway, and would squeeze each ass cheek as she pecked kisses up his jaw. Tessa and Scott were disgustingly in love, which Charlie thought was more ridiculous than Jeremy Abbott's sustained pre-competition rituals. Tessa, ever the confident little upstart had told him, her nose held high in the air, that she only fucked Scott because that was how one won an Olympic medal; when she had found them, pre-Vancouver, in the Arctic Edge mens' change room.

 

"Do you think Tanith never fucked Ben? Or what about Jane Torvill? Do you really think she and Christopher haven't been doing it on and off for years?", twenty-year-old Tessa started, dressed in a bright pink sweatshirt that sank to mid-thigh. What Charlie knew to be her panties, the blue and polka-dotted fabric piece scattered across the floor, were far enough from the both of them for him to realize there was a bit of _adventuring_ that had gone on.

 

"Who's Christopher?", he had asked, letting the question hang in the air, while Tessa continued to belligerently  list off names which Charlie vaguely remembered from the last Olympic cycle.

 

" _Idiot._ ", Tessa hissed.

 

"Okay."

 

Scott was on the floor, laughing like the world was ending and he wanted to die happy and Charlie would leave them then, shaking his head. Until he felt the silver medal heavy around his neck, and Meryl became a supermodel almost overnight.

 

Scott did it, but Tessa was the brains of the operation. Scott was just a _guy_. Not a little bitch like Evan Bates, or missing his balls like Alex Shibutani, but Scott just never thought of the secret; until Tessa, who told Charlie she was a _rehabilitated man-hopper_ ; had figured it out.

 

She had dated Fedor, after all, who had come dressed to Charlie's last Halloween party with a piece of paper taped to chest that read _Sperm Bank._

 

"-mm. Yeah- _I like tha_ t- I like-"

 

"-more, though, _just a little_ -"

 

"-mmph. Ch- _Oh shit- Charlie_!"

 

That was Scott. They had began kissing; real, passionate kisses which Charlie had only seen in romantic comedies, and it took everything within him not to roll his eyes and shove Scott into the door of the womens' change room, where he was hoping to go for his customary pre-practice pick-me-up from Meryl. Tessa spun away with a tiny, demure, giggle, completely opposite to what  Charlie had just been forced to witness.

 

" _Charlie!_ ", she greeted, jumping into his arms. "How was the summer?"

 

"It was okay, y'know. Parties weren't so great without my man around. Scott, how are you?"

 

Tessa was nuzzled into his shoulder, but he did his best to return Scott's high five over her head. Despite the competition, he was genuinely good friends with Tessa and Scott. Maybe it was because they were Canadian, and unable to really piss his off, or maybe it was just because they still had fun, like Ashley and Adam, and were never too wrapped up in competition to realize there was a life outside all of it. Meryl had been part of their group, during the interim years when they had started college, and she had been alright.

 

But then, what Meryl called _growing up and moving on_ , Charlie called _becoming an absolute buzzkill_.

 

"Yeah, my Mom's been telling me to tone it down, y'know?"

 

Charlie snorted. Moms were all such fuckers. "Shit. Well, can't make Mommy mad, can you?"

 

"Hey, c'mon. I actually love my mother, you sick fuck. Besides, if you've got something going on, I could definitely stay the weekend, right Tessa?", Scott said, with a winsome glance at his partner. Tessa, cuddled into Charlie's side as though she belonged there, nodded.

 

"I can't though. I'm taking that one class and I need to study, so don't do anything dumber than Charlie."

 

 _Scott's so whipped,_ Charlie thought, shaking his head.

 

"Speaking of which-", Tessa continued, "-We've got a secret contract for one Mr. Charlie White to sign!"

 

"I'm not gonna have a threesome with you bitches. Even I have standards, you freak.", he joked, while Tessa dug for a folder in her skating bag.

 

"Here. It's a release for Scott and I's show. Just, permission to videotape you at the rink and maybe interview you.", she explained, her smile and voice as bright as the day outside. Tessa held out a paper on a clipboard, and a Skate Canada pen, taped to the wood panel.

 

"Your… _show_?"

 

"Yeah. It's just for a little network in Canada. They're gonna follow us around the Grand Prix, and stuff, leading to the Olympics, so they'll be filming here and legally, like- they just want to have permission from everyone on the record.", said Scott.

 

Charlie reached for the pen and fought the internal urge to scream. "Hey, of course. Just as long as you guys don't make me look like a _hashtag nice guy_ or and pussy stuff like that."

 

 _Leave it to Tessa and Scott,_ their face beaming and their eyes sparkling only for each other, _to make booking a reality show sound like they were announcing the birth of their goddamn child,_ he thought.

 

"Did you know Tessa and Scott are gonna have a tv show in Canada?", he asked Meryl, later; while she squirmed under him as they kissed on the locker room bench.

 

She shook her head, breaking away from his lips. Charlie moaned, softly, his hand at the small of her back pulling her back; closer, until he could feel her ribs against his chest. She was heaving, and he was happy. He was attacking her like she were his queen, Scheherazade, nipping at her raspberry-flavored lips and breaking only for breaths he would pepper by sucking at her neck and collarbones.

 

Charlie's hands molded to her hips, a dance they had practiced a thousand and one times before, with bruising force. Meryl whimpered and squirmed until Charlie grew tired of pulling her back, and finally let her up for air.

 

"We have to up our game. Like, by _shitloads_.", he said.

 

Breathless, she sputtered " _Yeah-- ah, yes. Let's. Do---…that._ "

 

* * *

 

 

Several days later, Charlie was sitting in the passenger seat of Meryl's car, outside the Applebee's where Hailey had planned to meet them. A master of passive aggression, Hailey had replied to his Seattle text by writing _You can't be trusted in a classier place, so Meryl and you will meet me at Applebee's._ like it was meant to insult him.

 

Meryl, after finding out from her mother, Cheryl Davis, through Jacqui White's telephone grapevine ( _Didn't the woman have a job?_ , Charlie lamented silently); that his license was suspended, had come to the White's house with her arms crossed and her lips pursed in a thin line, rang the bell, and pointed at her budget five-seater in the driveway. Jacqui, of course, was delighted. Big Charlie had been staying later and later at the office, and without a guy to back him up, Charlie had, with much stomping and slamming of doors, climbed into her shitty car, while Jacqui waved from the porch like a proud bitch on prom night.

 

"You _cannot_ do stuff like that, Charlie.", she huffed, as the pulled out of the White's driveway. Charlie had chosen a grey top with tight sleeves, and trendy dark jeans that the mall promised him was artfully ripped for the occasion, his typical weekend wear. Meryl, boring as ever, was dressed like his niece at her first day of preschool, in leggings and a lilac sweater.

 

"What if you get arrested?"

 

"Please. My parents have company lawyers for a reason.", he gloated.  At that, Meryl hit the brakes so hard that Charlie swore the car would go flying over the highway gaurdrail. He held his hands in front of his face, slamming into her dashboard, where a bobblehead from the Davises last trip to Hawaii wobbled.

 

" _What the fuck?!_ "

 

"I-um, never mind. I thought we missed our exit.", Meryl reasoned, her voice shaky enough to bring back memories of ill-fated elementary school book reports; when she would have rather died than tell the whole fourth grade about The Hobbit. She eased off the brake pedal, letting her car roll to stop by the shoulder of the road. 

 

"Well, don't. _Holy shit!_ "

 

She felt something squeeze in her chest, like fingers which pressed into the bruises Charlie had left on her hips; a pain not unlike what it felt it to be almost at the end of a gruelling day at the gym.

 

She _could_ pay him back for every sleepless night she had spent with Fedor, who would gasp; horrified he had done something wrong when she could no longer pretend she _enjoyed_ him.

 

She _would_ destroy him for every time she had found Jeremy's hotel room two floors down from hers, and cried into his newest set of pyjamas while he lied to his coaches and lied to his parents and told them he was feeling too ill to discuss tomorrow's competition; when really, he was busy putting her back together. 

 

Meryl, a noted stone-cold selfish bitch who had a one-track mind for winning, opened her mouth to speak; then closed it again.

 

 _I need him, I need him until the Olympics_ , she repeated to herself, a weak chorus that did little to convince her what she was doing was for her, not for stupid _Charlie._

 

"Sorry."

 

"Sorry? _Fucking hell._ You're a piece of shit, you know that?", Charlie howled, as Meryl turned on her blinker, looked behind them, and pulled back into the right lane, steeling her nerves as he continued to scream.

 

Whatever it was he was saying about her, she told herself he was probably right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to put the meeting in here, but the chapter was already way too long, sorry!


	4. Early September, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter...isn't so funny. But I rewrote it so the next chapter flows evenly well in...that's why it took so long to update, sorry guys! Warning for violence, but it's not graphic or gory or anything like that at all.

For as long as Charlie had known her, Meryl had always been willing to do _anything_ to get on top. Unlike Ashley, who knew when to call it quits and shrug and admit that she was over trying to be the best shot when they had played basketball outside their training dorms at Champs Camp, maybe it was Meryl who had a _compulsive need_ to prove she was the best there was at what she did. She chased stupid shit like being on the Dean's List, and Charlie, in his infinite wisdom and knowledge of girls culled from fucking quite a few of them, could never figure out what kind of satisfaction she got from being told she was better than everybody else. After all, in Big Charlie's words, _"If you need someone to tell you the truth, then you know they're lying to your face."_

 

But Charlie knew, if you dangled the ticket to get there in front of her; Meryl would do whatever it was you told her to. When they slid into the booth at the Bloomfeild Hills Applebee's, a restaurant so unclassy he could apparently be trusted in it; and Hailey, with her folder open and her cheap drink glistening with ice water dripping down the glass had asked them how badly they really wanted to have sponsors, he had known immediately that it would be _bad._

 

Now, his hand was clenched in a fist as Hailey, with her stupid sharp eyes and stupid big mouth reeling Meryl in closer and closer by the second, outlined her plan to turn Davis and White, a wonder of the skating world only for how long they had managed not to simply murder one another, into a real gravy train, as she called it. Meryl was clearly buying the story, as someone so _fucking stupid_ would.

 

Hailey planned several appearances on local TV, before an appearance on a national NBC special about growing up to be Olympians or some other dumb shit like that. Between those commitments, they would shill for the cereal companies and try to sell motherfucking tissues with their faces on the box. There was something about an air mattress, too, and Ralph Lauren ( _yuck_ )- all of which Charlie thought were silly, but since Ashley was making her money begging the teens of America not to follow in her footsteps as a certified amazing bartender all before the age of sixteen, he thought he would take it on the nose, and had readily agreed.

 

"Sure. So the Frosted Flakes thing, would be like…on Friday, right?", he had asked, trying his best to seem truly interested. Money had never really been an object in the White house, and so Charlie wanted the bragging rights more than the shockingly tiny amount Hailey had listed in the margins of the legal agreements she pulled out of cheap folders on their table.

 

 _Exactly how many of those dumbass ads is Ashley doing?,_ he wondered, making a note to call her later that night.

 

"Friday, yes. But Charlie, and you too, Meryl- it's not just about making your appearances and committing yourself to these companies. When I asked about sponsoring ice dancers, you can imagine I got a few…interesting calls back."

 

"Yeah, and? I can do that gay for pay thing. Just as long as y'know, I suck off what I like and no whiny-ass queers.", Charlie joked with a pointed sneer. Truthfully, he would rather be killed by a firing squad than get gayer than an ice dancer, but the sour look on Hailey's face had made his statement completely worth it.

 

Her eyes rolled skyward. She huffed in a breath, and pointed at a paragraph just below the one which Charlie had actually read (since it was the one with actual numbers).

 

"Do you see this? " _We think it would be wonderful to have athletes with such an incredible history and relationship as representatives of our brand_." Relationship. These companies are expecting to have your relationship to sell on, because America falls for sweethearts, not for athletes.", she told them, shaking her head.

 

"Yeah, and we fuck.", Charlie shot back.

 

_"Charlie!"_

_"Well, there's a thing about a bed in here!"_

 

Meryl could barely help but groan, her head sinking to eye level with her glass of water on the table. Charlie had been belligerent and confrontational since her slip-up in the car, and he had refused to let anything go when they stepped inside the restaurant. Instead, Charlie White was at the top of his game tonight; sweaty, horny, three beers in before the clock struck nine, getting his little digs in where he could.

 

 _"Shut up."_ , she muttered, turning their attention to their agent across the table. "A relationship like, you want us to…fake being in love with each other? So people think we're…what we do on the ice is real?", Meryl suggested, suddenly looking so animated by the prospect of this fake relationship that Charlie had the sudden urge to call Fedor and tell him he was such a shithead his own girlfriend couldn't get an orgasm off of just him.

 

"No…love is…too much. You don't want to come on that strong when Tessa and Scott have just booked a reality show. I want your relationship to be different."

 

"It is different. She _doesn't_ own my ass like Tessa owns Scott's balls.", Charlie said under his breath.

 

"Charlie. Listen to me. These companies are very interested in your relationship. They want to see a seventeen-year-journey culminating in Olympic Gold. They want to see the struggles and the triumphs, and the beautiful moments you have together. What they're after is a connection. Meryl, you understand, right?"

 

She had nodded, and Charlie capped his mental recap there. _Takes us right to now_ , he told himself, as Hailey continued her saccharine little speech.

 

She said; _"No one wants to see a love story between you two.  What they want to see is how much you two care about each other._ "

 

Charlie heard; _"We'll turn you into a bleeding heart little bitch for pay. How do you like that?"_

 

_"We're not doing that."_

_"Charlie-"_

 

"I'm not pretending that…there's something going on between us that's more than what actually is. Fuck this-", he began, knocking back the remaining beer in his can as he stood. "- "and actually, fuck you. That's _crazy_ fucking shit."

 

Charlie reached for Meryl's wrist, and pulled her after him with a rough jerk. "Let's go. This is shit we don't need."

 

"Charlie, stop!", she squealed. _"Let go!"_

 

_"Shut up!"_

 

By now, several of the restaurant patrons had begun to stare, and Hailey, who would later swear she saw at least three people she recognized from church, ducked her head behind the dessert menu.

 

"Oh, my God. People are looking, Meryl. _Let's go_.", he huffed indignantly. Of all the times she was choosing to be especially difficult, they were in public, and closer to home than he would have liked. The last Charlie needed was word of Meryl's tantrum getting back to his mother, who would bitch him out like there was no tomorrow.

 

" _No!_ "

 

"Jesus Christ. _Meryl-_ ", he dropped her hand and dropped back to the booth beside her, ignoring the glares pointed in their direction coming from the bar. "We do not need this stupid shit. You want money? Fuck, let's go to a bank right now. You know how much my mom makes in a year?", he bragged, growing angrier by the second that this was apparently a conversation they needed to have.

 

"Nothing."

 

" _Dumb bitch._ Let's go, I'll show you."

 

"No. You shut up."

 

Suddenly, her hand encircled what it could of his forearm in a vice grip, and her dull eyes locked to his like the scope of a rifle. The most judgmental, pissed-off rifle on the planet.

 

"Your mother, who still gives you the time of day even though you've treated her like _shit_ your entire life doesn't have a fucking job. Your dad sold the family company and your lawyers to some big, downtown, firm and trust me when I say _, you're going to need this money._ ", she seethed, her voice filled with equal parts rage and sick pleasure Charlie recognized, because it was the way he spoke to _her._

 

_"Liar."_

 

"No one told you because we all know you're _a little boy when something doesn't go your way._ "

 

 _"Stop it."_ He pulled her with a short shout of protest from the booth, and through the short hallway out of the restaurant, shoving her to the curb outside with little concern for the alarmed chattering and glowers from the staff, or how hard she could have fallen on the cement.

 

"That's a lie. Take that back."

 

"No. That's the truth. You think I wanted to do this, with _you_ for money? _Fucking idiot._ "

_"Shut up."_

_"Ask her yourself."_

 

" _No_."

 

Charlie had pulled them into the parking lot, his own rage building as Meryl kept shouting into the dimly-lit after-dinner lot, trying to trick him into what- _becoming the guy she fantasized about while they fucked?_

 _Did she really take their game that seriously? When had that started?_ He was wondering, so loudly the words pulsed in time to his hammering heart, which drowned out Meryl's protests as he wrestled the keys from her and forced her into the backseat, before putting the car in drive and gunning it the hell back to where they had come from.

 

She was crying, and screaming at him to _stop stop stop_ , and while he battled with the blinker and tried to remember the roadmap of the very same thirty mile radius he had spent his entire life inside of. Charlie struggled not to look back into the rearview mirror, and mentally tried to make a list of what had happened. He had _yelled_ , because she was a _liar_. He was _angry_ , because _she_ had tried to kill him. He _had_ grabbed her and pulled her out of the restaurant, because she had _refused_ to stop lying and shut up. He had _touched_ her, but not _hurt_ her.

 

 _She's not going to tell_ , he concluded in his mind. That was after all, the most important thing. Thankfully, neither were really famous enough to warrant much more attention that the head-shaking and pearl-clutching from the crowd at Applebees.

 

He sped past the cornfields outside the suburbs and barely remembered the exit into Meryl's own town neighborhood, feeling oddly proud of himself as he saw the entrance sign of her condo building crest on the horizon.

 

" _Get out._ ", he spat, letting the car slow to a stop before the block where he knew Meryl's unit was.

 

"And what? Just let you go like this? You fucking _stole my car,_ Charlie.", she howled from the back, beating on the back of Charlie's seat with her fists.

 

"I'm stealing your car when you  get the fuck out and go home. Meryl, _leave_."

 

" _So what if I call the cops on your sorry ass?_ ", she shouted at him.

 

Charlie shook his head and chuckled. He pulled the key from the ignition and spun her keyring around his finger as he turned to face her. "I have known you for _way too fucking long_ , Meryl. You _need_ my sorry ass no matter how much you really hate _me_.", he told her, his voice low and raw. It was entirely too late to be dealing with this kind of bullshit, after all. He flipped the keying back into his hand and slipped the car key out, tossing the remaining keys back to her. "Meryl, just go _home_ and go to _sleep_."

 

"I…-", she started, and then suddenly seemed to think better of it, yanking open the door and then slamming it so hard that Charlie felt the car shake as she scrambled up the steps to her building. He recognized in her a foreign sort of fear, though as Charlie started up the car and threw it back into drive, he thought better of that, too.

 

She had nothing to be scared of.

 

 _I'm not pissed at_ her.

 

Charlie merged into the main highway for a short few miles, speeding through the adjoining suburbs  until he found himself back in familiar territory.

 

Anyone who kew him could tell you, Charlie White did _stupid shit_ when he was angry.

 

 _Tonight?_ _Absolutely no exception._

 

* * *

 

 

Tanith Belbin had never been one for regrets. An hour after she had alternately banged on the door of her Ann Arbor apartment, sat in the hallway trying her best to look like she was in on the joke, and tried to jimmy open the lock with the side of her credit card, she was beginning to reconsider.

 

Of _all_ the days she had to leave the keys at the rink, it had to be a day when her favorite fuck buddy Charlie was staying at his parents' or fucking Meryl or whatever it was he got up to when the two of them were on a break. He had made it very clear, via an angry stream of text messages that she had _absolutely not_ been forgiven for leaving him alone at the airport with his parents, and so other than the equally angry voicemail she had left on his phone informing Charlie that he was an _immature, desperate, dumb bitch_ , and she would never turn down huge work opportunities just to make him feel better, they had been apart for the better part of the week. Still, she had cable and food in her apartment, and it was never too long before Charlie got booted from his parents or the guys' places, anyway.

 

How Charlie had become convinced that his parents; between his dumbass father and Jacqui, a rinkside regular who was easy to send off on a wild goose chase at will- were the worse things that could ever happen to him was a complete mystery. Unless he had been beaten as a child or forced to eat his own shit off the floor like Tanith had seen in one of those late night documentaries about child abuse, the way he was behaving was clearly completely uncalled for, she thought to herself, thumbing the side of her credit card as she leaned against the door frame. It would be a few more hours before the landlady got home, and she was far above asking one of her neighbors for a drill so she could just take the lock out herself.

 

She sank down beside her door and dug in her purse for her phone. Everyone else in the building had probably realized if there was a joke to be had, she was far from in on it, and their slightly pitying glances in her direction (Tanith could practically hear the _poor dumb blonde_ joke spouting out of her least-favorite neighbor across the hall's eyeballs) were getting to be so much more than just _slightly_ annoying. She played with the card while she scrolled through her list of contacts for the number, and slid it smoothly back into her wallet as she heard the voice on the other line pick up.

 

Charlie was the kind of guy who she could count on to come back, and when he did, he would definitely be buying her back with a new winter wardrobe. Although for now, he could go wallow in fucking his partner and bitching out on his mom. As well as her current conversation was going, it was probably best for their break to go on _just a little while_ longer.

 

After all, the last thing she wanted was to have to _deal with him._


	5. Early September Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow lol this fic is from last yr haha finally updated i'll try to update regularly now :) every m/c fic deserves a clayton :D
> 
> PS: i just love 2014 take-no-prisoners meryl davis, don't you?
> 
> one more early september chapter after this one!

It was early Saturday morning, when Clay Davis pulled into Meryl's complex's parking lot- with her favorite cheat day breakfast, a Rice Krispie Apple Crumble, balanced in a casserole dish under his arm. He rarely saw his sister, and given that she and Charlie were going into an Olympic season, he was prepared for that time to drop to an all-time low, like when they had been growing up. She was dedicated to _Olympic Gold_ , he was dedicated to _existence_ , not that their parents had given a fuck.

 

If he had to be completely honest, Meryl was a _total_ slut. There was Charlie, who it took no genius to know she was fucking, and then Fedor, who was her kind-of-but-not-really boyfriend, and that other guy Jeffery she hung out with. It did not lend itself to a future business mogul very well- having a sister who was basically a massive floozy, but she was kind of _cool._

 

 _Skater Slut Syndrome_ was hardly rare.

 

He'd never think older girls; much older girls, were his thing, then he'd fucked Tanith Belbin from the rink in the apartment he'd jimmied his way into.

 

It had just happened, she had called and he was horny and had been drinking, and after he had wrenched open the door of her apartment, Tanith had taken him inside and led him to her bedroom. Whatever Tanith's damage was, since he had heard she was technically Charlie's girlfriend and from that fact, _clearly_ a masochist, she was an absolute _animal_ in bed.

 

The apartment was decorated like the girl stores his girlfriend liked to shop at whenever they went to the mall, and between Tanith's peach flavored lips and the damp lilac lace panties she wore that were so thin her vagina might as well have been the same shade as _Barney the Dinosaur_ , he was hooked.

 

 _Fucking Tanith_ was like fucking a flat-chested centerfold who knew exactly what buttons to push, and in those moments, when her lips kissed up and down his dick, he had _understood._ Maybe it was bad to think of your sister doing those things to other men- but then Tanith had kissed him, as tenderly as though she really loved him, and offered to make them breakfast in the morning.

 

She had been crying over the sink when he had finally been awake enough to follow her to the kitchen, prompting some misplaced immediate panic, in case she was one of those girls, who _obsessed_ over every man who dared look at them and _expected_ something once they had fucked.

 

" _Are...you okay?_ ", Clay forced himself to say, as she spun to face him with her hand cradled to her chest.

 

"Yeah. I just cut myself with the knife and I hate...I hate seeing _blood_.", she filled in. Her palm was indeed dripping, and Clay reached for the roll of tissue paper in the corner.

 

" _Then just don't look._ " he told her, making quick work of wiping away at the red trickle down her wrist.

 

_Who knew that being an Eagle Scout would come in handy the morning after a hookup?_

 

* * *

 

 

Meryl's car was missing for her usual space, but the lights inside her condo were on. He could see her making coffee through the blinds. Maybe she had gone out and cabbed it, even though Meryl's social life was drier than the Arizona desert where Clay's last girlfriend, _She who Would Not be Named because She Faked in Bed_ , was spending her semester.

 

Clay circled the lot, and pulled into a space across from her building, where two police cars and a giant satellite van were camped out. Given they were in the suburbs, it was either a domestic abuse incident (which was just sick) or infinitely more exciting and less _sickening_ ; some serial killer hiding out in Plymouth, Michigan. Clay was into those stories, and the more dramatic, the bloodier, and the more _you-can't-make-it-up insane_ ' the more he was up for it. But casing the complex for potential fodder for his in-progress crime novella would have to wait.

"Yo! Meryl!", he shouted through her door. "I have food!"

 

"Just a second." He heard her shut off the water, rustle through the condo in short, quick, steps, as the cops in the car behind him hustled out.

 

Could Meryl be harboring a criminal?, he wondered, excited at the possibility. Tax fraud was probably something Fedor had both dirty, meaty, Russian hands in.

 

"Hey-", she greeted; pulling open the door. Meryl looked a bit peaked, but then again- she always did. Training for the Olympics did that to a person. Her eyes were dull and her hair was pulled into an uncharacteristically messy ponytail.

 

"I like this look. It's _spontaneous_.", he teased, as she pulled him inside, his free hand deep in his pocket where Tanith's panties were balled up beside his keys.

 

"I've had a spontaneous night.", she deadpanned, and suddenly, he was concerned.

 

There was Tanith, flashing through his memory from the night before, and Meryl, he imagined- with someone else's brother.

 

"You shouldn't have to do _that_...because of him. It's not worth it, you know?", he murmured, setting down the casserole dish on her table.

 

"It's my _entire_ life.", she chuckled harshly. " _Charlie is a shithead who deserves to be hung out to dry._ But he's the best thing I have in my life."

 

"I know...but I just-" Clay suddenly clamped his mouth shut, before he said something truly incriminating.

 

Meryl had fixed her eyes outside the window.

 

"I think the nice thing about it is since I'm building from nothing once we're done, I'll have a lot of... _freedom._ ", she added wryly.

 

"You're not nothing you-", he was suddenly cut off by a sharp knock at her door as she hurried to answer.

 

"You're _Meryl_...um, Davis?", he heard through her thin wall.

 

"Yes."

 

"Wayne County Police. You're wanted down at the station, unfortunately. I'm gonna need to- uh...shit. I'm gonna read you your rights, miss."

 

Clay sped out of the kitchen, skidding to stop on the hardwood in his socks.

 

"Wait. No, _this is my sister_ , okay- I can guarantee she _didn't_ do anything.", he found himself suddenly pleading with a stringbean cop in a uniform so loose it billowed in the light wind around him. The officer looked up at him passively and sighed.

 

"I'm a warrant guy, okay? I just get names and kind of-", he waved, as if to say, "go after them." He pulled a yellowed piece of paper from his pocket and groaned before clearing his throat.

 

"The report says there's about...nine people from the Applebee's, uh- over in Bloomfield who can attest to your sister, um, Miss Davis- that's you, being an _accomplice_ to a belligerent young man who-"

 

" _Charlie_.", Clay hissed.

 

"That'd be the guy. _Charlie White_ , who's in holding, after we took him in last night at his parents' house in Royal Oak." He could feel Meryl tense beside him.

 

"W-with his-"

 

Before she could say anything more, Clay jumped beside her. "If we...if I take her to the station can you just...charge her there? So she can just go through- um, the... _process_ quicker, and you don't have to put her in handcuffs. _Please_. C'mon man. This is my sister, okay?"

 

"I still gotta read her rights and declare the uh, the charges."

 

"No, no, no, no. _C'mon_. Do it there. It'll be faster."

 

The officer shrugged. "Hey, whatever. I mean, look- we get these deals all the time. The boyfriend's a bitch, and the girl gets dragged into it. My wife actually works at one of the uh, crisis lines in Detroit."

 

" _I'm right here._ ", Meryl seethed, and Clay shook his head.

 

"Uh, okay. Officer. I'm gonna-", he pulled his keys from his pocket and held them in front of his face. Swinging from the bottom of his keychain was Tanith's lavender butt-floss, unnoticed until it was just a second too late.

 

"-My car is _that one_ , over there. So we're just gonna um, walk over and get in the car, and go to the station, okay?"

 

He nodded, stifling laughter, and Clay, red-faced, pushed Meryl through the door.

 

" _Nice job with your whole life, sis._ "

 

* * *

 

 

As far as holding cells in Metro Detroit went, Birmingham's outpost wasn't too bad. Charlie was passed out on a bench beside a frat boy from Michigan State, who was wearing a half-open button up shirt over his lipstick-stained abs. Gary, finance major- had inadvertently declared himself a minor while purchasing liquor already hammered out of his mind, so the good' ol boys in blue, proprietors of the _truly_ failed Wayne County Jail, had thrown him into Charlie's cell for observation. Across from them was Mark, who was still loopy on his mental pills and braying about the massive injustice of being locked up in suburban holding, all while being so pale white Charlie could see the blue strings of the veins in his head, underneath his platinum blond mop of hair.

 

It was like another morning at the rink, minus Scott and Tessa squeezing each other's butts and Meryl sucking his dick.

 

To be totally honest- it wasn't as though he'd actually done anything _wrong,_ per se. Or at least, nothing worse than having three beers on an empty stomach and seeming drunk and disorderly while he smashed his parents' windows with rocks from their landscaped garden. His blood alcohol level was point zero six, two points below the eight needed to actually charge him with a legitimate crime, though apparently that didn't matter so much since he had been _combative_ and _belligerent,_ which was a dumb fuck way of saying he was _kind of mad_ that his parents had cemented their status as liars.

 

There was the property damage and the fact Meryl's registration was in the glove of her car, but it was old fashioned hooliganism at heart, because nothing would _humiliate_ them more than garbage bags duct-taped on to the windows in their upscale neighborhood, which for the record, Charlie hated.

 

He hated how they always wanted to be _perfect_ , and how much they pretended to _care_ about their _successful, well-rounded, perfect, son_. He hated how much his mother wished Meryl was her daughter and how much his father had probably been stifling the urge to ask him if he was gay or just born without balls for the past twenty or so years. The truth was, their house was silent, like the fucking Amazon rainforest where a few times a year, the animals of the fucking family would jump out and try to kill each other.

 

Away from that though- they were just your typical ignorant Midwestern brood, and winding them up and watching them _scramble_ was a special treat. It was a special treat when he'd been sixteen, even better when he'd finally turned twenty-one. It was still good, when everyone had to pay attention, four-and-a-half years later. Eventually, maybe his _stupid_ , lying, parents would start to wonder if maybe they hadn't been remarried dumb fucks who'd had sex one too many times to remember if they'd used a condom, and _hadn't_ made a mistake, if they'd be _happy_ in that parallel universe where they hadn't dumped enough money to buy a house into trying to convince themselves they _wanted_ him around.

 

He sighed, and rolled over on the bench, staring up at the ceiling while Gary muttered something about how this was the _best_ rager in MSU history. Best case scenario, he'd be out by lunch. Tanith would probably want a bracelet or a fucking ring to let him back into her apartment and once he was through with fucking her, well- the possibilities of the world seemed to open up all over again.

 

* * *

 

 

"Drop the fucking charges, Jacqui. We can do this, some other time. _Not this year_ , for crying out loud."

 

"No. He _needs_ to learn a lesson and you know he won't until he sees there are consequences for his actions!"

 

"He spent the night in jail. That's enough of a consequence. We'll put him in counseling or something, I don't know. Stop him from hanging out with Fedor."

 

"You honestly think the problem is _Fedor_?"

 

Meryl dropped her gaze as she heard Charlie's parents arguing, through the glass of an office marked "Precinct 67 Captain". She and Clay were hustled into an office across the hall, where a significantly more intimidating officer took her warrant from his clipboard and read her rights.

 

"So uh- you've got the property damage, and that's your car he was drunk in-"

 

"He wasn't _drunk._ ", Clayton cut in. "Point six isn't drunk."

 

"Excuse me, are you the one we're _questioning_ here?"

 

" _I'm still in here!_ "

 

With that, he was promptly booted from the room, leaving only Meryl, her hands clenched together tightly in her lap, and Officer Edwards, according to the nameplate in front of his computer.

 

"Did he steal that car, kid? Because look- if this is a situation where...there's _something_ going on, we can help you with that.", he told her, his voice suddenly softer.

 

Meryl sighed and trained her eyes to the floor. _"It's...complicated."_

 

"Okay. If you want to wait in here, I can get a female officer to take your statement and maybe we'll make this all go a little f-"

 

"No...it's that...it's not my car. I mean, it's our car. We're...business partners. Charlie and I have worked together for the past, um, several years and we- well, it's a very _stressful_ time and he..."

 

" _What the hell kind of business-_ "

 

"Marketing. _Promotions_. We mostly do promotions. We're very...new to this and we...the car, it's a fleet car. It just isn't registered! Because we're, again, very new. God, he thought- look my ex-boyfriend lives like, three houses down from his parents. It was dark...and all the houses look the same. He probably thought he was _defending my honor_ , or something."

 

Officer Edwards pierced Meryl with a gaze so contemptuous that she felt the blood in her heart being to cool. "Listen, lady. _You can't lie for shit_ , for one thing. But if that's the story you wanna go with? You're still on the hook for those peoples' windows. So, look over there-", he pointed a meaty finger at the captain's office, "-and if those people don't drop their charges against your bullshit business partner, you're both gonna go to court."

 

Meryl nodded. "They'll drop the charges. They know him. They know both of us...really, _really well_."

 

* * *

 

 

She stumbled outside of the office, with a warning not to leave the building, to see Clay slumped over in a seat with his head in his hands.

 

"Mom and Dad just got here. As you can see, the police run a very _tight_ operation.", he told her, cocking his head towards the office where both sets of their parents were screaming.

 

" _Did you call them?_ "

 

"Nah. They just kinda...I mean, they showed up, then Mom ran in there and then _Dad_ -"

 

A folder filled with parking tickets was swept off the captains desk. " _-if you weren't such a shithead, my daughter wouldn't be giving your son the time of day!_ "

 

"-I mean, you know...uh, Charlie's in the basement, by the way. The stairs are over there, and I don't really think anyone gives a fuck around here."

 

"I think I'll hold off on seeing him, thanks. But hey, you were right... _I'm not building from nothing_." She ducked into the hallway, dug for fifty cents, and dialed from the grimy pay phone beside the men's bathroom.

 

"Hailey? About _last night..._ "

 

* * *

 

The same officer who had taken him in, a large Hispanic man who Charlie preferred to refer to as " _a huge fucking failure with a fucking pencil dick_ ", as he had in the cruiser last night, came around to get him about an hour into Gary's soliloquy about his girlfriend's pink-glittered vagina. It made Charlie both a bit disgusted, and a little bit sad. He and Tanith had not fucked in what felt like _forever_ , but if he knew her, she would be _home_ , and _horny_ and willing to take it from _any_ guy off the street.

 

" _You-_ ", the officer motioned, jabbing the air in front of them. "- _shitty blond dye job_ , you mommy and daddy dropped your charges."

 

Charlie shook his head. "Sounds like them."

 

"You're a lucky little _bitch_. I got no sympathy for kids who disrespect their mother. Seems like they'd rather try the psych hospital with your _sorry_ ass than teach you a real lesson."

 

The threat to call their lawyer was on his tongue, until he remembered suddenly why they were here to begin with.

 

"Yeah, like I said, that's kinda how they roll. _Little bitches make little bitches_."


End file.
